


you are the port of my call, you shot and leaving me raw

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Body Worship, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Exhibitionism, Feathers & Featherplay, Feet, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Lovesick Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Masturbating, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Tickling, Voodoo, Voodoo doll, idk lmaoo, non con elements, tumny... aziraphale tumny good, voodoo sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Crowley had purchased the doll back in the seventies without much thought to its usage. He'd been intrigued by the concept, but realized days afterwards that any old demonic miracle could effectively do the same to the doll's target, and tossed it into the back of an old wardrobe in his bedroom.He hadn't thought about the doll again until one night when he and Aziraphale were lounging (well, Crowley was lounging, and Aziraphale was sitting in a slightly more relaxed version of his standard prim posture) and sharing a bottle of whiskey. Glasses off and face half-hidden by his own shoulder pressed to his cheek, Crowley subtly shifted his gaze to focus squarely on Aziraphale. After a moment of pause, he graciously allowed himself a rolling glance over the angel's sweet, soft body, and realized his mistake when he felt a familiar heat begin to gather in his chest.- - -AKA the one where Crowley rediscovers an old voodoo doll.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 192
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Now I know you're amazing

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags!! This fic features the nonconsensual use of voodoo magic for sexual pleasure, please be warned. 
> 
> I also know very little about the practice of voodoo and this fic is purely for fun.
> 
> Main title and chapter titles are from Underwater by MIKA.

Crowley had purchased the doll back in the seventies without much thought to its usage. He'd been intrigued by the concept, but realized days afterwards that any old demonic miracle could effectively do the same to the doll's target, and tossed it into the back of an old wardrobe in his bedroom.

He hadn't thought about the doll again until one night when he and Aziraphale were lounging (well, Crowley was lounging, and Aziraphale was sitting in a slightly more relaxed version of his standard prim posture) and sharing a bottle of whiskey. Glasses off and face half-hidden by his own shoulder pressed to his cheek, Crowley subtly shifted his gaze to focus squarely on Aziraphale. After a moment of pause, he graciously allowed himself a rolling glance over the angel's sweet, soft body, and realized his mistake when he felt a familiar heat begin to gather in his chest.

Lovely, that was what Aziraphale was. Big and sweet and soft where Crowley was thin and sharp; the contrast did funny things to Crowley's stomach once in a while (okay, always). The things he wanted to do to those thighs. And those tits. And that beautiful plush tummy, oh- Crowley wanted to press sweet kisses over that softness, bury his face and hands in his angel and worship. He needed to feel Aziraphale's chest jiggle from laughing against Crowley's own when he walked tickling fingers up and down his back. He would give anything to be choked and surrounded entirely by thick thighs as he licked deep into Aziraphale's tight little-

"Dear?"

Crowley's fantasy came to a quite literal screeching halt, a sound coming from his mouth that he wouldn't dare call a squeak of surprise as his focus shifted back to the concerned angel next to him. Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar (or rather, his tongue caught in the- well, you get it), Crowley straightened and added about a foot of space between them.

"Di’you say something? Angel?"

Aziraphale studied him with a small frown before shaking his head as if to clear it. "I asked, before, if you felt alright- you seemed, mmh, very far away for a bit there." His grip adjusted on his empty glass of whiskey and Crowley's traitorous eyes tracked the shifting of those sure fingers, even as the flush on his face seared through him.

"M'just tired, I guess," Crowley murmured after a pause, rubbing at his cheek in a vain attempt to rid it of its reddening. "Might head back soonish, leave you to fuss with your books for the night." Aziraphale's response was a sarcastic snort that Sober Aziraphale would surely gawk at.

"I do not fuss, and anyway, you're no bother to me, my dear demon." The angel met his eyes and Crowley found himself terribly, horribly turned on at the gentle unfocused gaze trained upon him.

He stood quickly (too quickly, as he rammed his shin into the coffee table with a hiss) and snagged up his coat and scarf that were draped across the back of the couch. He needed to leave before he did something awful, like kiss Aziraphale or dip into a dark corner to bring himself off. He hadn't even manifested genitals before he'd come to see the angel (force of habit), for Someone's sake, how was he this horny already? 

And- oh, no, the thought, unbidden, wormed its way from Crowley's mind and slid down his spine like an oil spill before settling quite particularly between his legs, where he felt an ache begin to spread.

"Nnnhg- I-I've gotta water m'plants, I'll see you to-morrow, Angel-" Crowley called as he practically flung himself out of the bookshop and into the snowy streets of Soho, aimed vaguely for his car. He heard Aziraphale call his name but willed his legs to keep carrying him, just get him away so he could masturbate himself into a coma.

The alcohol in Crowley's system made his brain go all wobbly, and the time it took to get from Aziraphale's back room to his own bed kept no residence in Crowley's memory. He practically ripped off his clothing once he arrived in his bedroom. Tearing frantically through his wardrobe for his favorite dildo brought no success, as the pulsing between his legs grew until he could feel slick on his thighs. He barely registered when he landed atop his silk sheets, miraculously nude, and shoved two fingers into his soaking wet opening. His hips fucked wildly as he tossed his head and wailed his pleasure to dark walls.


	2. Cause all I need is the love you breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice the chapter total increased; I've written out about half of this and it turns out it may be longer than I originally intended it to be :)c 
> 
> I've got no clue when it'll be finished but I should be able to stick to the upload schedule!! Next chapter will be out on Wednesday, and will be what you all have been eagerly awaiting- sweet, hot sexytimes!!

He woke the next morning to find several things: tackiness across his thighs and a good portion of his hand and wrist, clothing strewn about the room in a haphazard path leading to his bed, and-

That damned doll.

Crowley stared it down for a minute, as if anticipating it would reanimate itself, before cleaning himself and his sheets off with a snap of his fingers. He left himself nude, let the silk slide deliciously across his ass and legs as he scooted to the edge of his bed.

"Well, well," he announced to no one, reaching out and plucking the doll from the floor with careful fingers. "I'd completely forgotten about you. Funny, that."

The Almighty privately agreed; and if Crowley thought that this was funny, well then She was about to be hilarious.

It was a simple thing, no bigger than his forearm, with swirling designs stitched across the body and a pale blue ribbon tied in a bow around its neck. The head itself presented closed eyes and a soft, neutral smile. Crowley held it in his palms gently, deliberating.

Hm.

"No, no, no, no, no-" he hissed, setting the doll on his mattress and turning away. "Stop it. We are not doing- whatever we were thinking about doing. Nope, not this demon. I don't even have anything to bind it with anyway. So fuck off." 

He would never admit to crossing his arms and huffing, reminiscent of a certain fussy angel, but he did turn his body away from the doll to instead survey the mess of clothing on his floor. 

Must have pulled it out accidentally trying to find my fucking- ha- dildo, he thought as he began scooping up articles and shoving them back into the wardrobe. He reached for the coat and scarf he had worn the night before and paused.

For context, Aziraphale had given him a scarf for the holidays years back. Never mind that it was tartan patterned ("Oh, come off it, will you? It's comfortable-" "They had no other patterns? None!?" "It's posh!"), Aziraphale had been absolutely correct when he'd said it would be gentle and warm on his skin. Crowley had worn it on and off every year since he'd been gifted it, mostly to see the pleased smile Aziraphale directed at him when he noticed.

The problem was that Aziraphale had also bought a matching one for himself. Of course, it had never been a problem before now, since the two had just swapped scarves when they got mixed up. No, this was a big problem. The worst temptation, Crowley would argue, he's ever faced, as a lily-white curl of hair sat nestled in the folds of what was undoubtedly Aziraphale's scarf.

"Fuck me," Crowley said loudly after a long moment of nothing but static hissing coming from his brain. "This is- I'm- I can't. Guh."

I could, he thought. I could try it. Just to see if it works.

"See if it works…?”

He found himself plucking three strands of hair from the pile of fabric and carefully setting them in his palm. Turning back to the doll, he felt himself tense, in multiple senses.

"Am I seriously fucking doing this," he asked the doll, which did not respond. "Am I going to do this, right now?"

His fingers shook minutely as he unraveled the ribbon from the doll's neck, letting it fall away, and he shivered as it brushed against his bare thigh. Oh, fuck- he was still nude and he was putting a voodoo binding on his best friend whose memory he creamed himself to not twelve hours before, so that he might- what, exactly? Tickle Aziraphale when he was being particularly grumpy? Pet his soft curls from afar, watch his head tilt back and a contented rumble pass through plush lips? Or maybe run a finger softly, slowly over the twin swells of his chest, teasing his pert-

Crowley bit his cheek hard against the flaming blush that was rising to his face and gently wound the ribbon and the strands of hair together. He tied the ribbon around the doll's neck at first, then paused, and re-tied it around its waist. 

"Felt weird with the neck," he murmured to himself, then sat back and stared.

"Well, then."

After a moment, he snuck a hand between his legs and found himself wet again. Groaning quietly, he propped himself up against his pillows and began teasing around his clit in gentle circles, pushing at his entrance to spread the slick around.

He pictured Aziraphale sitting in his dusty bookshop with those dorky glasses he insisted on wearing. He imagined running a finger lightly across the doll's stomach and Aziraphale gasping in surprise at the sensation, a pretty pink flush flying to his cheeks. Moaning, Crowley slid a finger into himself and brought his other hand up to tease a nipple.

He would be so gentle with Aziraphale's body, he would. Only the sweetest touches and tickles and rubs, a type of worship reserved for only the holiest. The doll's hips would fit nicely between Crowley's palms, and he imagined rubbing over its nipples with his thumbs as his tongue laved across his tummy and finally, finally slipping between Aziraphale's legs, making the angel orgasm from the ghostly stimulation, screaming his delight and maybe even Crowley's name.

Crowley keened and came explosively around his own hand, decorative heart beating wildly in his chest.

\- - - -

It took about three hours for Crowley to work up the courage to pick up the doll again.

He changed into a loose sweater and jeans, not really feeling his usual getup. When he passed a mirror he gave himself a once-over: cheeks tinged red, hair an absolute mess, lips bitten pink- there was no mistaking what he'd been up to. And what he'd be getting up to soon, his mind unhelpfully supplied, and he groaned (gurgled, really) into a handful of water as he splashed his face in his sink.

He pushed his plans out of his mind temporarily as he went about a lazy afternoon. Between watering his plants and terrorizing the few that were underperforming, as well as making small mischiefs on the street below his flat (without actually leaving the comfort of his room, he might add, how clever of him), three hours passed him by in a blink.

He returned to his bedroom idly and was abruptly reminded of the doll, sitting in the same spot he had left it in before. Nails biting into the meat of his palms, he forced his legs to carry him to his bedside and stare at it as if challenging its power.

He blinked once- a rare occurrence- then a second time- an even rarer occurrence. The doll's eyes, previously designed to be closed, were now open, and familiar blue-green-gray irises stared gently at the ceiling of Crowley's bedroom. He was imagining things, Crowley told himself firmly. He probably just didn't notice it before now. The doll felt a little warm in his hands when he scooped it up, and his breath caught in his chest as he gently adjusted his grip on it.

Crowley bit his tongue, then glanced around. After a moment of pause, he brought his thin lips to the stomach of the doll, dropping a gentle peck there.

In a bookshop in Soho, a certain angel briefly choked on a sip of wine as he felt the strangest flutter across the softness of his middle. He smoothed down his waistcoat and shook his head, blaming it on a stray breeze that must have wandered in through an open window.

Crowley sat and waited for a solid three minutes before making a face. Nothing had happened to him, or to the doll- if he was being honest, he half expected it to explode on him like some sort of heavenly defensive measure against outside magical influences. He sighed, then froze. He would have to travel to see the angel in person if he wanted to accurately catalogue the effects of the doll. He would have to get even closer to Aziraphale to work his- well, magic- on the doll and sufficiently satisfy his burning, straining, throbbing- question.

Oh, Satan help him.


	3. Put your lips on me and I can breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, sexytimes!! Enjoy!!

This is how Crowley found himself screeching through the streets of London, doll safely tucked into the passenger side seat of the Bentley. His thoughts were somehow both going as fast as the Bentley herself and impossibly empty. But no, that wasn't quite accurate: they were filled with memories of fluffy white curls and soft smiles and fussy hands. Crowley groaned and drove faster.

Arriving at the bookshop was a task in itself: he needed to be able to see into where Aziraphale was sitting, but keep himself inconspicuous. Nothing a demonic miracle couldn't adjust, but he would have to act quickly to avoid the angel sensing him.

"Worst case scenario: he finds me," Crowley sighs, pulling to a curb not too close to the bookshop and killing the engine. "What then."

Stuff the doll into his jacket and speed off? No, that might hurt Aziraphale unintentionally. 

Distract Aziraphale with.. actions to the doll, and haul ass back to his flat to remove the binding? Possibly, although seeing the angel get publicly humiliated as he attempted to reach Crowley was definitely not ideal.

Just throw the damn thing out the window? But there was always the chance that a random passerby might pick it up-

"Absolutely not," Crowley spat vehemently, for if someone else were to find the doll, start messing around with it... There were no words in any of the hundreds of languages he was fluent in for what Crowley might do if it came to that.

He resolved to keep himself quiet and to trust his demonic intuition to keep him reasonably hidden.

With a series of miracles he was able to render himself and the Bentley invisible and mask his demonic presence, as well as give himself a straight-shot view of Aziraphale through the walls. After a pause, he snapped again and was able to hear clearly what was happening around the angel as if he were sitting in the room with him. He pulled in front of the bookshop, confident that he was being sufficiently sneaky, and tugged himself over to the window.

He stared into the bookshop, watching with a disgustingly fond smile as Aziraphale puttered about, stacking books here and there and tapping his feet along to a record. The sign on the door was flipped to "Closed" as it typically was these days, and Crowley could sense no other being in the shop besides his angel. Perfect. Without another thought, Crowley plucked the doll from the seat next to him and arranged it in his lap.

He bit his lip. What first?

Start small, he thought to himself. He repeated the action from that morning and dropped a sweet kiss onto the stomach of the doll, then spread butterfly pecks around his chest.

Through the wall, Aziraphale gasped softly and hummed, running his hands over his tummy. Crowley's eyes sharpened and he immediately felt his jeans growing tighter. Oh, it was so early in the game but so lovely already.

Crowley felt his head go a little dizzy with arousal and greed; he held so much power in his hands and yet he wanted to do so many soft and gentle things with it, like make Aziraphale giggle in the squeaky way he did when he'd been drinking like a fish.

He watched Aziraphale move to a worn armchair and close his drapes, closest to where Crowley could see him. His earlier miracle, however, granted him a clear view of the angel, who was currently facing Crowley with a book in his lap. Evidently, he was settling in for the night.

"Not for long," Crowley mused.

He ran a fingernail down the side of the neck of the doll, pausing to tickle at the junction between the shoulder and the neck where he knew Aziraphale was terribly sensitive. The angel, to Crowley's infinite delight, let out a soft "oooh!" and bent his head to try to cover the area. Crowley switched to the other shoulder and tickled there, laughing breathily when Aziraphale scrunched both of his shoulders up to his ears and stifled a giggle into his palms.

"Well, well, that won't do. I wanna hear you, my ticklish little angel." Crowley grabbed a soft hair tie from his wrist and pulled the arms of the doll above and behind its head, then secured them at the wrists. A warm thrill shot up his spine as he watched Aziraphale's own limbs mimic the movement. The expression on that sweet, round face was one of shock, but something darker in those wide eyes made Crowley tremble.

Alright, he thought. Time to get serious.

He pulled a sleek, black feather from his pocket- one of his own- and held it aloft, watching its colors shimmer in the light like an oil spill. Gently, ever gently, he brushed the tip across the doll's chest in line with where Aziraphale's nipples would be.

A loud keen from the angel made Crowley jerk in his seat, grinding his hips down into the leather with a moan. His cock was fully hard now, pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He worked his pants off with one hand and set about drifting the feather around the doll's chest with the other.

In the bookshop, Aziraphale was heaving air into his lungs without really needing it. His wrists were quite definitely secured behind his neck, leaving his plush, sensitive rolls of softness vulnerable to whomever. When a horrifically ticklish sensation brushed across his nipples, he felt a violent noise punch itself out of his mouth.

Aziraphale's upper body had always been a little oversensitive, and historically he had made good use of it. Over the centuries, he had discovered that the right amount of attention paid to his nipples and tummy could make him orgasm completely untouched- with both types of human Efforts. His feet were another terribly weak spot, and if this mysterious person continued to move downwards with their attack-

Well. He was already wet inside his trousers, could feel slick moistening the crotch of his underwear, so at least he might get an orgasm out of it.

He moaned lowly as the sensation returned, but only to his right nipple; now the feeling was doubled, felt as though one large feather was swiping across the whole of his breast. The tickling suddenly zeroed in on the very peak of his nipple, which was erect and visible through his shirt, and he cried out. Pleasure zipped through his breast, making his spine arch and a fresh gush of fluid coat the inside of his panties. Yes, he had worn them today, not necessarily for his current Effort but because he was, well- a bit of a hedonist, and lace always felt ever so nice on his skin.

"Hhh- mmh.. please, please," he begged, straining against the chair and his invisible bonds. As his hips lifted, the fabric of his panties slid wetly against his sensitive cunt and caused him to moan again.

He had the sudden thought to preserve the state of his clothing, and with a thought he vanished all but the lacy white underwear that clung filthily to his soaking wet opening and stretched around the softness of his lower tummy. The cold air making contact with his skin made him whine and grind his hips into the fabric below him.

He felt like he was on display, vulnerable and soft, and he wondered idly what would happen if Crowley were to stroll into the shop right then. Would he be shocked? Concerned? ...Intrigued? Would he want to reach out with those clever fingers, run his hands down Aziraphale's tied arms, sinful hips grinding down onto his plush thighs? Might Crowley make him come like that, and let Aziraphale finish him in return?

"Crowley!" the angel whined, and felt his chest flush heavily with embarrassment.

Out in the car, Crowley felt as though he might be having a stroke. As if Aziraphale had known he was being watched, he had vanished his clothes to reveal a tight lace number that cradled his sweet tummy and clung tightly to a fat, dripping cunt just begging to be licked.

And then he had whined out Crowley's name and suddenly the demon was on the immediate edge of orgasm. He choked and wrapped a hand around himself, squeezing. He could come just from watching the angel get himself off, he realized, stroking his cock slowly, gathering moisture from where it headed at the head and spreading it around. 

"Not yet, not yet-" he groaned. "Fuck, Aziraphale."

The tickling while thinking about Aziraphale's pink nipples seemed to have had a drastic effect, for the angel had practically wailed and curved his spine erotically as if trying to get more attention from Crowley's ministrations, the naughty hedonist. He hauled in a lungful of air and gently caressed a thumb over the doll's breast while stroking the feather up and down, focusing on the erotic bounce of Aziraphale's chest as he moaned.

The bouncing only increased as Crowley fixated on hard nipples, now rubbing the softest part of the feather back and forth beneath the chest as he fucked into his fist. 

He was chanting Aziraphale's name like a mantra, staring at gorgeous flushed cheeks and pretty pink lips spread open in an "o" around a moan.

His whole body jerked as if electrocuted as the feet of the doll accidentally caught against the sensitive head of his cock. At the same time, he heard Aziraphale groan his name, call him "love," and then it was all over and he howled through an incredible orgasm that nearly whited out his vision. Cum painted the feet of the doll obscenely as Crowley choked on the name of his angel, stroking himself and the feather across the doll wildly.

Aziraphale wailed when he felt the attention to his nipples increase tenfold, chest bouncing in a horribly lewd way as he writhed against the delicious pleasure. He was so close to coming, could feel it in the shaking of his thighs and the clenching of his cunt. He just needed- just one touch to his pink little pussy would satisfy. 

"Crowley, Crowley- ahn, love-" he panted shamelessly, tossing his head back to expose his pale throat littered with splotches of pink. "P-please, pl-"

He thought for a moment he might discorporate from the teasing until he felt a slick dripping sensation travel across his feet and over his toes and then he was crying out, gasping wetly as his hips rocketed off of the chair and his cunt came and came and came around nothing. He cried and he mewled as something wet traced a sensitive path down his arches, and combined with the attention to his nipples he was sure he would burst something in his head if it was kept up much longer.

The sensations abruptly ceased and Aziraphale fell heavily back into the chair, panting and soaking in sweat and slick. Outside, Crowley wasn't in a much better state, mind wiped clean as he caught the tail end of Aziraphale's own orgasm.

Crowley tossed the doll (with care) into the seat and scrambled into the driver's seat, igniting the engine and promptly gassing it away from the bookshop.

"I am so fucked," they both said, and Crowley might have laughed if it were different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update might be posted a day or two late, I have midterms coming up ://


	4. Underwater, Underwater, Underwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Aziraphale's turn for some good old-fashioned longing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter for you all today. Enjoy!!
> 
> Edit: Thank you all for 100 kudos!! Much love!!

Aziraphale thought of himself as a rather well-rounded man-shaped being. He'd been educated on countless types of ethereal and occult practices through the centuries, perhaps dabbled in a few on the side. He was nobody's fool, was what he was trying to imply, which meant he knew full well that voodoo magic was the culprit for his spectacularly slutty orgasm two days before. Or, rather, the accomplice was voodoo; the culprit's identity was still a complete mystery to the angel.

He certainly knew who he wished it would be.

Sitting in his bed (rarely used, and often too cluttered with books to do so anyways), legs tucked neatly underneath the downy comforter, Aziraphale curled his toes as a gentle wave of pleasure rolled low in his tummy. The memory of his pleasure was still fresh in his mind: the sensation of ghostly feathers tickling across his sensitive nipples, swiping across their hard little buds even as he keened and jerked, burning up and delirious with lust, followed by a sickly erotic dripping across his feet that he could have sworn felt like-

"Ooh," Aziraphale cooed, sliding down a few inches on his sheets and feeling his skin light up with pleasure. Really, just the thought of having another orgasm as powerful as the one before was building a fire low in his belly- Lord, he hadn't even made an Effort since two days ago! But he knew well from experimentation and past experience that he could edge himself for hours, days, without an Effort to allow him to come; he just had to manifest the pleasure centers, and the rest was taken care of by his human corporation.

Shifting his well-worn copy of Leaves of Grass to his side, Aziraphale glanced around as if guilty. As if someone were to be watching him about to wreck himself for the sake of the delicious feeling of release after hours of being on a knife's edge of coming.

He allowed himself to slip into a frequent fantasy: dining at the Ritz with a certain demonic partner, a veritable feast laid out in front of him- only this time, Crowley held a voodoo doll.

Biting his lip, Aziraphale worked on unwrapping himself, slowly but surely exposing more pink-tinted skin to the sunlight fading from his window. Crowley would want him to do it slowly, he imagined. Aziraphale was by far the more hedonistic of the two, but he always seemed to catch Crowley staring at an exposed wrist, an ankle peeking out above kitten heels, a strip of soft tummy escaping from the bottom of a waistcoat.

He groaned when he got his hands on himself, imagined Crowley manipulating the doll underneath the tablecloth. Crowley would tease him, the demon finally living up to his title; he would caress and worship and tickle around Aziraphale's peachy corporation, drink in the angel's noises of pleasure like aged wine.

"Oh, lovely," he sighed, nearly biting his tongue off as a bolt of pleasure shot up his spine. 

Maybe he would wait until Aziraphale had taken a bite of cake before massaging at plump thighs, studying him in that sweet way he did when Aziraphale would moan around a mouthful. He might bring a toy, one that vibrated.

Aziraphale choked and rubbed at the expanse of bare skin between his legs, feeling unspecific pleasure building. This was a favorite method of his when he felt particularly.. inclined for pleasure, that left him positively wrung out after manifesting an Effort to make himself come.

His tongue tended to run away from him when he grew worked up like this, and now was no exception. "Crowley, love- darling- nngh, won't you touch me? Ahn- make me yours?"

Aziraphale would cast a pleading, but mischievous look over to those pools of molten gold, gasping when the toy would vibrate over the doll's body and send shockwaves of pleasure singing across his corporation. He would stuff more food into his mouth and moan and groan and whine, pleasured by all accounts. Crowley might tickle his heels and cackle when Aziraphale jumped in his seat, suppressing giggles and gasps of pleasure, but he would be abruptly silenced when Aziraphale would take a bold step and pull his aching cock from the confines of his pants, hiding it just out of sight from any passersby but still in view of Crowley.

Crowley's mouth would water at the thought of his angel displaying himself just for him, among high-class patrons of their favorite restaurant. He wouldn't be able to help himself then, sliding his vibrating toy slowly up strong calves and along the inside of the doll's legs, absorbing Aziraphale's whimpers of delight. The vibrator would tickle at first, and the angel would giggle obscenely around another mouthful, clutching helplessly at the table edge as he was teased. Crowley would move the toy around, seeking Aziraphale's sweet spot and finally deciding to rest the highest frequency vibe on the sensitive head of the doll's cock.

Aziraphale moaned loudly to the walls of his bedroom, pinching his nipples in one hand and pleasuring himself with the other. He could feel his pleasure building terribly, and with no outlet to go it simply radiated out from his legs, filling him up deliciously. 

"Please, please- I'm dizzy with it, love, the thought of your hands on me. Ghh- ahh-"

The instant he manifested a cock he knew he would absolutely cover himself in cum, and the image spurred him on.

If Crowley was feeling particularly bold, he might slide underneath the tablecloth to get a first-hand look at Aziraphale's thick Effort, precum sliding wetly down the length with no hand to wipe it away. It would be the sweetest torture, Aziraphale thought.

When the vibrating would become too much, Crowley might finally toss the doll away and truly get his hands on his angel, those clever fingers leaving fleeting and sensitive touches over Aziraphale's thighs and tummy and lean in to watch his fat cock twitch, letting a serpentine tongue lick briefly at the soaked slit and oh, oh, OH-

He would streak cum all over Crowley's face and lips and moan loudly into his hands, shaking with the Herculean effort of not alerting the other dining guests as an incredible orgasm shook through him.

"Fuck-" the angel gasped, picturing Crowley's red cheeks stained with his spend, eyes fluttering as he brought himself off with one hand-

Staggering out of his fantasy, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and manifested a sweetly plump cock and convulsed as he came almost instantaneously, fingers working at the head and tugging on his balls. He felt his orgasm subside after a long while and fell heavily back into his pillows, clothes and the sheets below him soaked with sweat and cum. He was sated, but that ever-present feeling of longing began to build again in his chest. Oh, how he wished- ached, for Crowley to lust for him the way the angel did him. But there was that damned voodoo mystery left to figure out, and there was simply no way in Heaven or Hell that his fantasy of its owner could be remotely true.


	5. Flying through a bright blue sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two fantasies come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! So sorry for the wait for this chapter. COVID hit and I just lost all of my motivation. I won't be posting regularly, but this fic is still continuing! 
> 
> This chapter is by far the smuttiest <3\. Please be warned that the events which go down in this chapter occur in a public area, though out of eye and earshot of other people. If that squicks you out, please skip this chapter.
> 
> Thanks again for your continued support!

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Crowley was actually sweating through his undershirt and he was pretty sure he was drawing blood with how hard his hand was clenched around his thigh.

Aziraphale was across the table from him, as per usual, and making absolutely pornographic noises while he ate his entree, also as per usual. Crowley- or at least a very specific part of him- was enjoying the scene a little too much for being appropriate in a public restaurant. As per fucking usual.

Before he'd left his apartment, Crowley also had the brilliantly stupid idea of- well. You see, it really was just on a whim- he didn't mean to-

He brought the doll with him to dinner with Aziraphale. It was sitting in the inner pocket of his coat on the seat next to him, out of sight of the angel moaning through another bite of pasta and truffle. He brought it because he wanted to, naughty things that his brain and his now fairly wet Effort were. Yes, he'd changed his Effort from last time he used the doll; no sense in Aziraphale getting an eyeful of his extremely inopportune erection if he ever chose to use the doll. It didn't take much to get Crowley worked up during a meal with Aziraphale, though. 

So there the demon sat, sexually frustrated with one hand making bruises on his thigh and the other rubbing a hole in his coat, while Aziraphale flushed and wiggled happily in his seat as he polished off another bite of his meal. A peek up at his companion through golden eyelashes jerked Crowley out of his head suddenly, and he straightened his back.

"S'good?" he remarked casually with only a bit of a rasp in his voice. Barely even noticeable, really.

Aziraphale gave him a small smile, one that practically dripped fondness. "Very, dear. Would you like a bite?"

"Ahk- mmyeah, sure. Gimme a good bite, angel."

Aziraphale smiled wider to himself and scooped up a forkful of his pasta, stretching his hand over to Crowley's side of the table to feed him. He could feel a blush rising to his face at the act, but promptly shoved the feeing deep down. Crowley eyed the fork for a moment, contemplating, before parting those thin lips to take the food from him.

He leaned forward, outside world melting away, and dragged his teeth across the fork, letting his longer-than-usual tongue wrap around it. 

In doing so, he felt his jacket slip from his hand and make a beeline for the carpet. He jerked back and grabbed for it, then felt a wave of dread wash over his corporation when his hand closed around the doll.

Aziraphale blinked in confusion, the moment essentially broken. He stretched a little to see what Crowley had scrambled for and-

Oh!

"Oh-!" the angel gasped, retracting his arm back to his side of the table, setting his fork down to smooth over his chest. It was as if someone was squeezing him between their hands.

Crowley had transitioned from artfully tousled to stressfully messy in a matter of seconds when he heard the angel gasp. Shit, had he seen the..? He risked glancing upwards, only to find the angel with his hand over his chest, eyes closed. Ah, right then- he was nearly strangling the stuffing out of the blessed thing.

He let up the pressure on the doll. Aziraphale immediately relaxed into his seat, and rewarded him with a smile again.

"Jacket fell," Crowley explained, at the same time Aziraphale said "Corporation issues," and they both chuckled.

A number of minutes passed by and the pair had slipped back into casual conversation while Aziraphale dug into the next course of the meal.

Crowley had a firm, but gentler, grip on the doll in his right hand. If he really wanted to, he could just reach over with his left hand and tickle the tummy. Just a quick little tickle, just to make his angel laugh. Just one.. harmless.. little touch.

He had never been known for denying himself much, especially when it came to Aziraphale. 

As casually as he could muster, Crowley slipped his arm off of the table and settled the doll to rest atop his thigh, facing up at him while still being hidden from the other patrons and from Aziraphale.

Biting his lip, Crowley waited until the angel had swallowed to tickle the tummy of the doll with his first finger. Back and forth, back and forth, quick, light strokes.

Aziraphale made an aborted squeaking-adjacent noise as he felt a tickle run across his belly. His hands immediately flew to his waistcoat, poking around for whatever was touching him. He laughed nervously at Crowley's inquiring nod.

"Alright, angel?" the demon asked him, and Aziraphale may have nodded a little too hard. This was possibly the worst time for the magic or curse or whatever it may have been to act up; not only was he in a very public area, being tickled by a mystery assailant, but he was less than four feet away from his companion who he had spent the last two days fantasizing about. 

Crowley smirked. It was fun to see Aziraphale off-balance for once, and horribly attractive, too. His pussy was already pulsing with desire, demanding attention. Down to business, then.

Crowley used two fingers this time, spidering them along the sides of the doll's abdomen. Aziraphale muffled a shriek into his hand, crumpling to the side. A quick demonic miracle by Crowley ensured that the corner they were stationed in was soundproofed and essentially invisible to the human eye; any being who glanced in their direction would see and hear nothing out of the ordinary.

Wetting his lips, Crowley hummed and began stroking up the thighs of the doll, occasionally tickling the odd seam as he went. Aziraphale gasped, cheeks flushing dark, and scooted back in his seat. 

All at once, then, the angel straightened and grabbed his spoon, leveling his gaze at his soup like it had challenged him. He dipped an only slightly shaky spoon into the broth and brought it to his lips, humming in pleasure as the flavors exploded in his mouth.

Ah, Crowley thought, mentally tutting. The angel wanted to keep quiet. He would see how long that lasted.

He flicked his fingers over the doll's tummy a few times, hiding a grin as Aziraphale squirmed and moaned and wiggled, trying to get away from the phantom tickling hands. Crowley didn't let up, however. He scratched over where a belly button might be, and the angel quietly squealed, then settled.

Time for the big guns, then. 

Crowley brought both of his thumbs up to the doll's chest and began tapping very lightly, occasionally rubbing slightly in a vertical motion.

Aziraphale went stone-still at this, then tilted his head back as his eyes crossed in pleasure. The spoon was still in his mouth as he muffled a deep groan. His thighs rubbed together, seeking not only to get relief for his pulsing, juicy Effort, but also to hide the fact that he was leaking through his underwear for the second time that week.

Embarrassingly, he could tell that his nipples were growing stiff from the attention that was being paid to them. Oh, it was as if someone were rubbing his sweet sensitive tits over and over, tapping them just enough to give a whisper of sensation and to harden the nipples before rubbing them, then repeating the actions over again. 

He wanted- he craved. He wished Crowley would leap across the table and tug up his sweater and suck his nipple into that clever mouth, tongue winding around it, laving the sensitive bud wickedly.

A moan escaped his lips before he could stop it. He snapped his head forward and forcibly made eye contact with Crowley, who was- rather flushed. Even through his dark glasses, the angel could see his serpent eyes were blown wide, and dilated.

Oh. Well, then. He was glad that they both could enjoy this strange event together, and what an odd thought that was, considering.

The sensations abruptly paused, and Aziraphale sighed heavily. Back into the meal, he supposed. 

Crowley watched like a hawk as Aziraphale tucked into his soup with new confidence. When the angel was looking away, Crowley quickly wetted both thumbs with his tongue, then slowly dragged them back and forth across the doll's tits. 

Without warning, then, he pinched his fingers together.

Aziraphale jerked back so violently he nearly concussed himself on the wooden divider. He gave one choked moan, then another, and then his throbbing pussy clenched and released a veritable gush of slick directly into his trousers as he came suddenly and harshly.

Crowley, nearly delirious with lust, wrestled a hand between his thighs to rub at his clit. His angel, beautiful, flushed, sensitive, was cumming not four feet in front of him, not knowing who was giving him such acute pleasure.

The demon shifted the doll so that it lay sideways across his lap, and used the hand that wasn't currently rubbing at his pussy to tickle over the intersection of the doll's own legs, where Aziraphale's effort- whichever he had- was surely being milked dry. Crowley nudged a nail over where Aziraphale's clit might be and began drawing random shapes into it. He kept the touches light enough to tickle but fast enough to get Aziraphale turned on again.

Aziraphale was a panting mess, and he was wracked with hot laughter as his plump pussy was suddenly fraught with tickles. His clit, erect and horribly ticklish, pulsed almost painfully as he came down from the last orgasmic high and was catapulted near instantly to another. He squealed as another sensation joined the first, and muffled moans and giggles into his hand as his swollen lips were polished and teased.

The sensations sped up suddenly, the angel's clit suddenly being zeroed in-on for all of the ticklish assault. It was as though tiny fingers were tickling up, down, and around his swollen button, skimming, groping, and hurtling him to another climax.

In a fit of absolute delirium, he suppressed a wail into both hands clasped firmly over his mouth, a plea along the lines of "my cunny is too ticklish, please-!"

And then he came explosively, hips arching up and away from his chair, and he howled into his hands. His pulsing juices squirted from his pussy and hit his trousers, making a dark mark along the crease as he came and came while his pussy was fondled and played with mercilessly.

Crowley jerked his hips into his own hand, biting down onto his lip as he watched Aziraphale giggle and moan and wail. He wondered if it would be bad form to stick his hand down the front of his jeans and fingerbang himself while his best friend had a deafening orgasm across the table from him.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and glanced down at Crowley, flushed, panting, wonton, and suddenly Crowley was on the immediate edge of orgasm. His hands were now shaking with the effort of pleasuring himself and tickling Aziraphale.

Then the angel did something surprising: even through his tired laughing, he reached over the table and cradled Crowley's jaw in his palm. Just that sweet touch was enough to send Crowley off, and he sputtered a moan into the angel's hand as his pussy throbbed and clenched around nothing.

The sensations ceased gently, and both beings slumped into their seats, panting.

Aziraphale grinned at Crowley, and opened his mouth to tell him how good that had been, when he spied something laying across his demon's lap. He frowned, glancing between him and the object, then leaned over the table to get a better look.

Crowley's head snapped forward from its ragdoll position and he quickly shoved the doll underneath the table. Shit. Had Aziraphale seen?

The angel was pouting now, his sweet blush receding as his orgasmic high retreated. He started to ask Crowley what he was holding, when a soft touch ran up his sole.

"Ooh-!" he gasped, rocking back to his side of the table. "Oohoo, hm- oh."

Crowley was veritably panicking, but luckily he had the immense power of the doll and it's potential for distraction literally at his fingertips. He had stroked a shaking finger up the bottom of the foot of the doll, and his breath was punched out of him when Aziraphale cooed at the touch.

He did it again to see the wide smile that split the angel's face. Smirking, he took the foot of the doll in one hand and spidered his fingers along the sides and sole, watching in delight as Aziraphale bounced and wiggled. He was making little squealing noises, hands clenched into fists as his foot was assaulted with tickles. 

"Oh-! No, no, those are t-too ticklish, ple-ease!" the angel begged quietly, hoping foolishly that whoever was tickling him would grant him mercy.

He nearly shouted as his other foot was suddenly assaulted by tickles. He giggled and laughed and wiggled in his seat, embarrassingly turned on again. He could feel his nipples getting stiff with arousal and they rubbed against his shirt when he bounced.

Crowley eyed the doll's feet again, then grinned evilly. He took an ankle in each hand and then pulled the legs apart, spread-eagled. He tickled his nail down each sole as he did do. To his delight, Aziraphale slid down in his seat as his legs spread obscenely in front of him. The angel gasped in shock and arousal as the stickiness in his pants dragged across his sopping pussy.

The tickling wasn't stopping, and now Aziraphale couldn't close his legs. He moaned as the tickles traveled closer and closer to his toes, laughing nearly deliriously.

The teasing finally reached his toes and he sucked in a breath, stemming his laughter.

Then he nearly discorporated as a vibration-type feeling attacked the most sensitive underside of his toes. The tickles went back and forth incredibly quickly and pecked around the tops and sides of his feet before scratching at his toes. He squealed and moaned and bounced in his seat.

"Heehee- oooooh, hhhm! No hoo- oo, yes yes- there agai- OOH! Unhh-"

The tickles had suddenly attacked his pussy, dragging ticklishly along his outer lips enough to make him squeal. His hands came up, finally having had enough, and he began playing with his nipples himself. He moaned terribly loudly as the tickles traversed across his tummy and centered around his pink tits, rubbing and pinching the buds.

Crowley was fucking salivating across the table. He needed to see his angel come again, preferably untouched. Making sure the angel was occupied, Crowley snapped his fingers and summoned a tiny feather duster into his hand. He grinned evilly and began sweeping it across the doll's entire body.

Aziraphale shouted, completely gone for the pleasure, as the tickles expanded to his whole body. His juicy pussy dripped steadily into his trousers and his nipples were abused and tickled and oh, he just wanted to come, he wanted to be tickled like this every day if it meant he could come.

"Don't tickle my toes.." he mewled quietly, then guffawed as the assailant did just that. The sensations were concentrated, though, and it made Aziraphale bounce pornographically in his seat as he laughed and groaned.

Crowley would make the angel come by tickling him if it killed the demon. He spidered his fingers up and down the soles and in between the toes, making sure to occasionally drop a teasing touch onto Aziraphale's pussy. The angel was getting closer to orgasm now.

Wickedly, Crowley summoned two small toothbrushes into each hand. Holding the doll's feet on his lap, he dragged the brushes along the very top of the sole, where he knew Aziraphale was most ticklish.

The angel's eyes blew wide opened and he absolutely screamed as his feet were assaulted with more sweet tickles. His pleasure was cresting again, just from being tickled and teased by this mystery person. He moaned and rocked his hips into the air as if the tickles from his feet were directly connected to his clitty.

Crowley increased the speed of his brushes and giggled to himself as Aziraphale laughed out of his mind. He nearly came himself as the angel choked once, twice, and wailed as his orgasm overtook him.

The tickling never ceased as Aziraphale came. His poor body was so sensitive! He kept being tickled and his throbbing pussy kept coming and coming, the sensations not letting up.

"I'm too ticklish, please- please, fuck! Oooooh!! No no, not there- ooooh!!" He squirmed in his seat and laughed his beautiful heart out as his feet were assaulted with tickles. 

All at once, the sensations drifted off. Both beings sagged into their chairs, panting and wrung-out with pleasure.

What a way to end a meal.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!
> 
> Chapters will be posted irregularly.


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